


Poor Jarvis

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Sexual Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed





	Poor Jarvis

Jarvis watched Clu derezz his overcoat with rapt attention. A few errant pixels floated away, and he reached out to catch one before it could completely dissolve. With a quick glance to either side, he shoved the newly-refreshed fragment under his sleeve. It would join the others, in the jar. Eventually there would be enough, and he could begin his new project.  
  
Now, if only he could get his hands on some hair.  
  
“I’ll be in the arena, not that I need to practice, but the activity will be stimulating,” Clu said as he turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Jarvis nodded curtly and stepped aside to let him pass. When he was out of direct line of sight he leaned forward and smelled the air.  
  
It smelled of perfection. He just couldn’t quite pinpoint what that smelled like, but it would come to him, eventually.  
  
Once he was alone, Jarvis launched himself at the throne, stopping it before it could disappear into the floor. He pored over the surface looking for stray articles, but it seemed Clu’s perfection extended to the uncontrollable, microscopic aspects of his existence as well. Rather than frustrating Jarvis, this revelation only _increased_ his level of adoration and resolve to create for himself a permanent memento of his luminary.  
  
He dashed over to his station and knelt next to the chair. With one hand he fished around under the console, feeling for the panel he’d removed, where his jar was hidden. His hand closed around the square glass and he pulled it out, eyes bright and a wide smile on his face. The words KEEP OUT were scrawled across each side of the jar. Inside there were at least a hundred pixels floating about, bumping against each other and spinning aimlessly in different directions. He opened the lid and slipped the new one out of his sleeve, adding it to the collection before quickly snapping the jar shut again. Just a few more and there would be enough to make them self-replicate.  
  
The door hissed open just as he lifted the glass to admire and envy the pixels that had once been part of the flawlessness that was Clu, and Jarvis scrambled to hide his precious cache. He looked up, expecting to see his shining idol brightening the small space, but instead he found Rinzler, shielded head cocked to one side, seemingly looking at Jarvis as though he knew what was going through the administrator’s head. Jarvis bristled indignantly at the imagined mockery broadcast by Rinzler’s silence. He couldn’t be certain that was how the enforcer felt, but over the cycles he had learned to read some of Rinzler’s body language, and he assumed most of it was unflattering where he was concerned. Even if it wasn’t, he just didn’t like the looming figure Rinzler presented. Always there, following Clu like a favored pet, close enough to touch him; he didn’t deserve that proximity.  
  
Rinzler turned away from Jarvis and looked at the throne. Jarvis followed the direction of his head and looked at the throne himself. He watched, horrified, as Rinzler walked toward it.  
  
“Don’t touch that,” he demanded. Rinzler froze. Jarvis froze as well, but for a completely different reason. He had never given Rinzler a command before, and he honestly had no idea how it would be received. He shrank back a bit, unconsciously trying to shield himself with the console. Rinzler turned and stalked toward him, his low rumble sounding more like a growl as he leaned over the top of the console and plucked the jar from where Jarvis held it out of sight.  
  
“You can’t have those!”  
  
Rinzler laughed. The sound was so foreign and cold, it made Jarvis duck instinctively, but his obsession was more powerful than his fear, and he reached out with wiggling fingers, trying to grasp the glass jar back from his rival. Rinzler transferred it to his other hand and pushed against Jarvis’ see-through mask, holding him at bay. He lifted the jar to his helmet and seemed to examine the contents. Holding the bottom he shook it back and forth, and cocked his head to the side in a gesture that clearly transmitted his curiosity to Jarvis, but the administrator didn’t want to answer. His plans were his own, who was Rinzler to ask about them?  
  
Still, it was unlikely he would get the pixels back if he didn’t.  
  
“I’m making something,” he muttered, and stretched his arms further toward the jar.  
  
“What,” Rinzler asked flatly.  
  
“An object.”  
  
That answer didn’t seem to satisfy Rinzler. He made no move to return the pilfered property to Jarvis.  
  
“It’s a…” Come to think of it, he really wasn’t sure what to call it. A doll? That seemed much more embarrassing than appropriately descriptive. He opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t know what to say. The two programs stared at one another—probably, anyway, since Rinzler could have been looking in any direction for all he knew—and neither moved until the sound of someone gently clearing their throat made both jump and turn. Rinzler shoved Jarvis back as he moved away.  
  
Clu was standing by the ramp, hands behind his back, looking as though he expected immediate answers. He received none. Rinzler glanced down at the jar and then quickly moved it behind his back, like that would help. Jarvis watched, horrified, as Clu’s eyes followed the motion, and he held out his hand. His fingers twitched twice; an unmistakable signal to hand him the object in dispute. Rinzler turned to Jarvis, and the administrator was sure he was trying to blame him for their predicament. Jarvis glared in return as he watched Rinzler step forward and hand over the precious collection he’d worked so hard to obtain.  
  
“What is this?” Clu asked, turning the jar over in his hands.  
  
“It’s his, sir,” Jarvis said quickly. He mentally patted himself on the back for his quick thinking. Rinzler spun toward him and his rumble hitched dangerously. Jarvis only smiled back.  
  
“Are these… mine?”  
  
For all his intimidating presence, Rinzler looked as though he would derez on the spot when Clu looked up at him. He shook his head, and for a moment—a brief, tantalizingly beautiful moment—Jarvis was sure Clu would destroy him. His circuits surged with hope as their master stepped forward, slowly, deliberately coming to a stop so close that Rinzler had to lean back a bit to avoid touching him. Clu brought his hand up and… gently slid a finger down the middle of Rinzler’s chest. He leaned down so that his mouth was just shy of touching the side of Rinzler’s helmet. “Come with me,” he whispered. He then turned and walked out of the room again.  
  
Rinzler stared after Clu, Jarvis stared at Rinzler. Without looking Rinzler tossed the jar to the side, toward Jarvis, and nearly dashed out of the room. Jarvis was sure he heard the enforcer snicker as the doors closed behind him.


End file.
